Tempest Rising
by Sauvignon Blanc
Summary: Only when a mild demeanor is paired with a hot temper does Valentine’s Day become an impending disaster. Angela and Paul’s antagonism for each other increases through a war of letters, but how can either resist the call of fate? Angela x Paul. Two-shot.
1. Part 1

_Title:_ Tempest Rising

_Summary:_ Only when a mild demeanor is paired with a hot temper does Valentine's Day become an impending disaster. Angela and Paul's antagonism for each other increases through a war of letters, but how can either resist the call of fate? (Angela x Paul) (two-shot)

_A/N:_ Drabble fic. This takes place in the middle of New Moon, after Bella begins to develop a friendship with Jacob. Only, I am rewinding Jacob's transformation into a werewolf several weeks back, when Bella is confused by his sudden disappearance. The story, however, centers on Angela and Paul. I wrote this with the intention of posting it on Valentine's Day (hence why I have moved Jacob's transformation to early February), but obviously have passed the deadline. No matter. I am aware that the pairing is highly unusual, but consider the potential of a story centering on two polar opposites declaring war…on the day of love, no less.

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own the Twilight Series.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

_Part 1_

_February 1._

The vast numbers of red, white, and pink streamers framing every doorway to each building were an unwelcome sight to the tall girl striding toward her first class. Angela eyed the repulsive decorations grimly as they swayed in the slight breeze, seeming to wave at her in a taunting manner. The colorful paper hearts taped to the sides of the halls greeted her cheerily as she stepped inside the science building, adding to her swiftly declining mood.

Valentine's Day.

If there was one holiday she had a strong aversion to, it was this one. In the past she had paid little attention to it, and even last year she had enjoyed the sweet tokens of affection from her boyfriend. However, this year her feelings had ricocheted in the opposite direction, to say the least.

Her relationship with Ben Cheney had disintegrated several weeks back, due to irreconcilable differences concerning post graduation plans. Neither one had been willing to alter their aspirations for their lives after high school, so both had known the inevitability of their breakup. The split had affected her significantly at first, but she had managed to find a measure of peace after a while.

Although…the obnoxious red and pink graffiti embellishing the walls in celebration of this dreadful day were quickly putting an end to her struggling tranquility. The rose petals littering the hallway floor were no help, either.

She made her way inside her class, gracefully dodging a member of the student council who came at her with a carnation. This, and the succeeding thirteen days, would undoubtedly be enough to drive her insane.

But much to her relief, she found that she wasn't the only one who was unappreciative of this certain theme. Bella Swan was sitting at her desk looking irritated beyond compare. There was a long stem snapped in half on the floor next to her backpack, surrounded by a pile of torn pink petals. Apparently, she also didn't share the Valentine's enthusiasm with the other girls in school and had taken her frustrations out on her poor carnation. She was absently rolling a crumpled petal between her thumb and index finger as she glared the clock, seemingly willing class to start.

Angela took her seat next to her and smiled. "I'm guessing it's not your favorite flower?"

Bella flicked the petal away and turned to her with a softer expression, remaining silent. Angela could discern the disguised sorrow in her face, and she felt the familiar sense of pity creeping up to overpower her other emotions as she gazed at the epitome of pure melancholy. Bella had just snapped out of her "zombie phase," which had resulted from Edward Cullen's untimely departure from Forks several months ago. She had been almost happy again lately, a phenomenon attributed to an unknown source (to Angela, anyway), but just as quickly reverted back to her forlorn state.

Deciding that it was best not to pressure Bella for words, Angela simply placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder in a friendly gesture before turning to dig in her backpack for her class materials.

"Angela," the uncertain voice suddenly piped up.

She snapped her head back to Bella, whose eyes were downcast as she struggled for words.

"Have you ever felt so close to someone, but they suddenly locked you out for no reason?"

Angela frowned, recognizing where this was going. "Bella, if you're talking about Edward–"

"No," the other girl interrupted, raising her eyes with a new intensity and shaking her head firmly as the emotion slightly brought her back to life. "I'm not talking about him." In response to Angela's puzzled look, she said, "Say there was a person who picked up your tattered pieces when you thought your life wasn't worth living anymore, and you came to depend on them in order to heal. If they just decided one day to drop you right back down, would that make any sense to you?"

Angela continued to appear bewildered as she had no idea what the other was talking about. "I can't say it would," she replied hesitantly.

Bella glanced back down at the mutilated carnation lying dismally on the floor. "Will you do something for me?"

Angela followed her gaze to the dead flower, its appearance a metaphor of the current condition of both her and Bella's hearts. For the first time, she realized that her compassion for Bella originated not only from the fact that they were friends, but also from the reality of their similar situations in the cruel game of love.

"What is it?"

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

_February 7._

Angela's elegant script decorated the piece of paper in straight, consistent lines. She tapped her pen against the sheet thoughtfully, reading the message over for the third time to see if there was anything further she could add. Her eyes scanning to the end, she decided that it was quite adequate and efficiently to the point. She folded the letter neatly in thirds and slipped it into an envelope that bore the address to Jacob Black's house. Sighing, she then stood from her seat to walk down the pathway to the mailbox, placing the envelope inside and flipping the small red flag up.

She had been playing the devil's advocate for almost a week now. She had learned that Bella and Jacob had established a friendship following the disappearance of Edward Cullen, but Jacob had recently taken to avoiding Bella, which was the cause of her return to despondence. As he hadn't answered any of Bella's calls or messages, and as Charlie Swan and Billy Black refrained from any involvement in the matter, Angela found herself recruited to act as a medium between them. She hadn't been briefed thoroughly on the specifics; she only knew that Jacob was not communicating with Bella, so she had been instructed to send him letters persuading him to inform them of whatever situation he was in.

No reply had been sent back as of yet. It saddened her to watch Bella sitting at the front porch every afternoon, anticipating the arrival of the mail in hopes of receiving an answer from Jacob. Each time, however, she was to be disappointed. The sympathy Angela felt for her friend's gloomy face compelled her to persevere in her efforts to reconnect the two. And so she willingly allowed herself to be drawn into this tangled intricacy of complex emotions.

She made her way back toward the porch of Bella's house just in time for the front door to open. Bella stepped out, flashing her a grateful yet tired smile.

"Thank you for doing this," she said, her doe eyes void of their usual spark and faint worry lines creasing her brow.

Angela sometimes worried that this separation from Jacob would completely drive Bella back into the lifeless state she'd been in for the majority of the previous semester. She could not bear the idea.

Grinning brightly in an attempt to at least lift Bella's spirits a little, Angela said, "It's no problem at all."

The other girl's eyes flickered to the mailbox, seeming to will a letter from Jacob to appear inside. The expectation reflected in those brown orbs was so futile, yet Angela hadn't the heart to voice the thought to her.

"Anything?" Bella asked, her gaze still locked on the mailbox.

Angela hesitated before slowly shaking her head. She did not enjoy disappointing her by any means, but day after day she was forced to do so because of the other party's failure to reply. It was beginning to prove to be a tedious duty.

Bella sighed in both exasperation and concern. She turned back toward the house and invited her friend inside. Angela followed her, frowning as she mentally added another unsuccessful day to their endeavors.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

_February 9._

Angela could hardly believe the sight of the envelope that her hand had produced from the mailbox, messy masculine handwriting scribbled in black ink on the front. She raised her astonished gaze toward Bella, who had continued to cling to the hope that their efforts would not be ignored forever. Apparently, her determination had finally paid off.

She stared back at Angela from the porch, reading the look on her friend's face and immediately springing to action. Leaping forward, she shot toward the envelope, her hands outstretched to reach it. Angela allowed her to swipe it away and jumped back, laughing in an emotion akin to relief as Bella all but tore it apart to get to the contents. It was certainly about time that they received an answer. Perhaps now Bella and Jacob could resolve whatever had set a rift between them in the first place, and everyone would be happier.

Unfortunately, such simple happenings only occurred in unrealistic fiction.

Angela's relief was quickly replaced with dread as she witnessed Bella's expression change from excitement to displeasure.

"What is it? What did he say?" Angela asked her anxiously.

Bella held out the letter, a hard look settling in her eyes. "It's actually for you."

Bemused, Angela took the paper and began to read.

_Angela,_

_As Bella has apparently had to resort to getting help from other people for matters that don't concern them, Jacob has seen fit to do the same. My name is Paul, and I'm answering on behalf of Jacob. To get to the point, what goes on between Bella and Jacob is really none of your business, and in your last few letters you sound like you don't even know all that's going on. He's been avoiding her for a reason that I will not disclose, and it has nothing to do with you. My advice to you is, stay out of it. Also, tell Bella to stop trying to get into contact with the Blacks. If they wanted to speak to her again, they would have already._

_Paul_

Angela's eyebrows drew together as she finished reading it. She glanced up at Bella, feeling a bit affronted. "He's very rude."

Bella nodded in agreement as she glared at the letter. "Paul…the name sounds familiar. I'm willing to bet he's one of Sam's lackeys…"

"Who?"

"Just one of the boys at the Reservation," Bella said dismissively. She shook her head in incredulity, the setting sun casting reddish glints in her hair. "I can't believe this. Jacob's as intent on avoiding me as I am on trying to communicate with him."

Angela remained silent as she grimly looked over the untidy scribble again. She was usually a rather tolerant and accepting person, but the way the message had been conveyed severely tested her. She was not accustomed to receiving such impoliteness compliantly, and every instinct in her body urged her to return his impertinence. On a relative plane, she viewed it as a challenge.

Bella was already leading the way to the house. Angela trailed along behind her, forming the forthcoming reply in her head. It simply would not do for her to allow this to end all correspondence between Bella and Jacob, as she steadfastly refused to see Bella wallow in depression once again.

Once inside, the two girls headed straight for the kitchen. Angela took her usual seat at the table while Bella began preparations for dinner. This routine had been established as a normal daily occurrence ever since Angela had become involved in the affairs between Bella and the Quileute Reservation in La Push. Only this time, they did not discuss what content to add to the next letter.

"Bella," Angela started as she watched her stiffly chop up an onion, "I can write him back, you know."

"It's okay," the other returned instantly, her chopping increasing in speed. "He made me realize that it was wrong of me to bring you into this. I'm sorry you had to put up with it for this long."

The apology was earnest. Angela was able to recognize the true remorse in her voice, and she came to grasp that Paul's words had had a strong effect on Bella.

"I honestly don't mind," Angela insisted, intent for her friend to understand her need to reply. "Look, you can't just drag me into this and then tell me not to worry about it after receiving one insolent note."

Bella was shaking her head again as she hacked away at the defenseless onion. "I'd feel better if we just dropped it completely. Tomorrow I'll drive to La Push myself to see what's up." She sent Angela a meaningful smile, closing the subject with the gesture.

However, unbeknownst to her, the girl sitting at the table considered this far from over.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

_February 10.  
12:20 a.m._

_Paul,_

_I am no longer speaking for Bella, but I am not through dealing with this. Her welfare definitely is my business, even if there are certain aspects I am unaware of. Jacob's ignoring her is putting a strain on her emotional health and I will not allow her to regress back into her depressed condition over another idiot boy who drops her without legitimate reason. If you would be so kind as to relay that to Jacob, I would certainly appreciate it._

_Angela_

She signed her name in a graceful, angry scrawl and leaned back in her chair. The dim candlelight on her desk flickered and danced ever so slightly as her tired exhale brushed against the single flame. Glancing at the digital clock on her nightstand, she realized that it was well past midnight.

The only noises in the quiet house was the distant snoring of her father several rooms away and the occasional unconscious peep from one of her brothers. She had been secluded in her room for a good four hours, working on the letter and debating whether or not she would really go against Bella's wishes. In all honesty, she was justified in her interference. She was simply looking out for her friend, even if that friend specifically told her to withdraw from the situation entirely.

After deliberating for several more minutes, she reached for the box of envelopes sitting precariously next to the candle.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

_February 10.  
3:30 p.m._

That afternoon, Angela was striding into her house after returning home from a long day of school. The primary reason that particular day had been taxing was that she had, under inconvenient circumstances, been seated next to Ben during lunch. How unfortunate that the only open seat next to Bella had also been next to _him_. Initially, they'd been able to discuss mundane topics and the like, but after running out of things to say, they endured an agonizingly long twenty minutes of silence and tension as everyone else at the table chattered away.

Not only that, but it seemed that the student council had sensed her lack of passion for the approaching holiday and had targeted her specifically for the month. She was finding it more and more difficult to refuse and/or escape their determination to persuade her to succumb to the upcoming celebration of Valentine's Day. Just today she had received fifty boxes of Sweethearts candy in her homeroom, courtesy of the student council president. It was horrible.

All she really wanted to do now was unwind by curling up with one of the books she had borrowed from the library, but her mother's call from the kitchen stopped her as she attempted to maneuver by stealthily.

"Angela! There's a letter from someone named Paul addressed to you."

Her muscles tensed reflexively. Even though she had sent the last one from her own address this time, Bella had gone to La Push today straight from school, and she would no doubt find that Angela had denied her request to stop writing any further letters. Fighting a wave of apprehension, Angela grabbed the envelope with familiar messy handwriting from the counter and continued on her way to her room.

"Angela, is that a new boyfriend of yours?" her mother called, a note of disapproval lacing her voice.

"No, Mom," she called back in exasperation. Without further explanation, she entered her room and shut the door behind her.

Tossing her backpack onto the floor with a loud thud, she noted that Paul had sent the letter from his own address as well instead of Jacob's before ripping open the envelope to read the message.

_Angela,_

_You just don't get it, do you? What part of "stay out of it" don't you understand? And now you're telling me that you're "no longer speaking for Bella"? What's that mean? Now you're just bothering us on your own? I'm not going to tell you again. Mind. Your. Own. Goddamn. Business._

_Paul_

Angela frowned deeply, but managed to remain calm. Was he really so desperate to keep whatever secret he and Jacob were hiding that he did not care what effect this was having on Bella? Completely unacceptable…

Grabbing a pen and paper, Angela leaned over her desk and began to scribble away furiously.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

_A/N: _Formerly called _Lupercalia Rising_, I saw fit to change the title because of the ambiguous history and meaning behind _Lupercalia_. I settled on the title _Tempest Rising_ because of the relation to the approaching storm of the story. Anyway, the last part will be up soon. In the mean time, please review and tell me your thoughts.


	2. Part 2

_Part 2_

_February 11.  
8:00 a.m._

The expression displayed on the tall girl's face could only be described as sheepish. Bella was staring up at her with a stern look, her arms crossed.

"So Jacob tells me that you and Paul are still active pen pals," she said flatly.

Angela disguised her fidgeting by tearing off the pink ribbons and paper hearts that the student council had decorated her locker with. "I don't think it's quite like that…"

"Angela, I asked you not to worry about it anymore. Really, you don't have to do this."

As she shot several wads of pink construction paper into the nearby trash bin, she replied, "Bella, it's not a matter of having to do it so much as wanting to do it. I don't like what that Paul character said, and I'm not going to sit back and let it go. At the very least, I want him to realize that this situation concerns me because I am your friend. Whatever affects you indirectly affects me because I care about you. Please try to understand that."

She had said all this while clearing off the last of the ribbon and streamers from her locker. After several seconds of silence, she turned to look at her companion, only to be shocked by the sight.

Large crocodile tears were beginning to pour from Bella's wide doe eyes as she stood there taking in Angela's words. It was evident that she was truly touched by her friend's declaration.

"Oh, Bella, don't cry…"

"No, no…I'm not crying. I'm just tearing up a bit," Bella assured her, quickly wiping the dampness away with the back of her hand. She smiled gratefully. "I'm just glad someone is still there for me. People have made it a habit of leaving me behind or shutting me out when I grow close to them, you know? It's nice to know that you're not going anywhere anytime soon."

Angela smiled back, pleased to be an anchor of sorts for her. She was aware that it had been a recurring problem for Bella to hold onto friendships as of late, and she was determined to make up for all the individuals who had deserted the poor girl. Regrettably, however, she had to ask the inevitable question.

"What happened when you went to La Push?"

It took a little longer for Bella to take a deep breath and find the words to report the result of her visit to the Reservation. Long story short, Jacob had seemed like he wanted to explain when she confronted him, but then brushed her off to the side completely once his friends arrived to witness the quarrel. He had also made it clear that he could no longer associate with her, and even included a few choice words about Angela's interference.

"I see," Angela said tightly, her eyes narrowing. "So what will you do now?"

Bella shrugged. "I'm going to give him a little while to get himself together. So this means no more writing letters, okay?"

She raised her eyebrows at Angela, who grinned and conceded by nodding. "In the mean time…" She scowled as she ripped off a large red paper heart from her own locker. "…I guess I'll have to put up with three more days of this crap."

Angela assisted her in removing the last remnants of revolting Valentine's décor from the surrounding area. "At least you won't be alone in your suffering during these last three days," she remarked wryly.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

_February 11.  
4:45 p.m._

The sound of the ringing phone was the source of her ascent to consciousness, but the identical calling of her little twin brothers was what forced her to unwillingly open her eyes.

"Angela! Angela! Phone for you!" Isaac and Joshua called in unison from downstairs.

She groaned unhappily, wishing she could roll over and return to her nap. But if she didn't take the call within the next fifteen seconds, her brothers would be pounding at her door to deliver the message. Reluctantly, she sat up and left the warm comfort of her bed to walk across her room and pick up the phone at her desk.

"Okay, I've got it," she called back before speaking into the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hello, is this Angela?" a gruff voice asked.

"Yes. How may I help you?" she asked a bit crossly, resenting the impolite tone that was currently keeping her from her rest.

"This is Paul."

She froze on the spot, her blood chilling as the identity of the caller instantly registered in her head. Any thoughts of sleep swiftly flew out the window, and she gripped the receiver a bit harder than necessary as a whirlwind of emotions invaded her head: confusion, anger, bitterness, and apprehension.

"How did you get this number?" she asked carefully.

"I used this thing they call a phonebook," he sneered, his voice lapsing into a derogatory note. "It's pretty useful. You should try utilizing one sometime."

She clenched her teeth, biting back an answering insult that was dying to escape her throat. Instead she asked, "What do you want?"

"You know, I really didn't like that last letter you sent," he replied, his voice deepening in an angry decrescendo. "Especially when I thought I'd made it clear that you have no right to involve yourself in things that aren't your business."

"Excuse me?" she retorted. She was finding it difficult to comprehend the audacity of this miscreant on the other line. "What do you think you're talking about? Perhaps _I_ didn't make it clear that my concern is centered on Bella's welfare, which ultimately means that this _is_ my business. Jacob Black apparently does not care about her any longer, but I do. If anything, you two are the ones who have no right to speak to us this way, because you're the ones who are the source of all this stress in the first place," she told him coldly.

She was answered by a series of animal-like growls that hurt her eardrum, causing her to hold the phone away from her head as the noises continued to emanate from it. She stared at it curiously, wondering if he was enraged beyond civilized speech. After several seconds, the growling faded and she tentatively placed the phone back to her ear.

"Are you quite finished throwing a tantrum?" she inquired daringly.

"You little bitch," he spat, the growling beginning again. "You think it's that simple? You think you understand enough to run your mouth like that?"

She could feel her anger increasing at being called such a vulgarity, but she retained her cool. "I don't _need_ to understand anything other than the fact that Bella is distressed over that bipolar ingrate who can't seem to make up his mind, and I am quickly losing patience with his hotheaded friend who appears to understand even less than I do."

This time she immediately held the phone away from her, managing to avoid an even louder sequence of growls and snarls that sounded like they belonged to a dog, not a human.

"In any case," she said loudly over the racket, not even bothering to wait for him to finish this time, "you can stop your whining because Bella went to speak to Jacob yesterday, and she has decided to leave him alone for a certain amount of time. This also means that I will cease all correspondence with you. So now you have nothing to worry about."

There was an abrupt pause on the other line. Then–

"I _know_ she came to the Reservation yesterday because I was _there_. This no longer has anything to do with her or Jacob or their situation. I'm calling you because I have a problem with _you_."

Angela's teeth clenched together as she realized the turn things had taken. "Don't try to deviate from the primary matter at hand. My intentions for writing all those letters were for Bella's benefit. I don't care if you dislike me because I chose to support my friend, but I am not going to entertain you with an argument on petty personal issues, so good bye."

With that, she promptly hung up. Two minutes later, when she was sure that he would not be calling back, she flopped back on her bed in complete exhaustion.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

_February 13._

It would be an understatement to say that the past two days had been irritating. Angela was seriously contemplating disconnecting her phone line, for Paul had called her house every hour each afternoon asking for her. Her parents had been instructed to come up with excuses for her absence from the house, but they were growing tired of the charade. She did not mention this occurrence to Bella, who had enough problems to deal with on her own.

Finally, when her father told her that he intended to report Paul for harassment, she agreed to take his next call to end the game. Now she sat at her desk, eyeing the phone warily as she pretended to do homework. Five minutes after she had finally solved her first calculus equation, it rang.

Picking it up, she answered calmly, "Hello?"

"So you finally decided to quit hiding," the cynical voice said.

"What exactly is it that you want from me, Paul?" she demanded. Enough was enough. She was putting a stop to this. Now.

He paused again, seeming to contemplate the question. Then he said, "I want to see for myself what kind of nosy, self-righteous bitch jumps into other people's matters without a second thought, and I want to speak to her in person. I'm going to be taking a big chance going to your school tomorrow, so you'd better be there."

_Click_.

Angela stared at the receiver in her hand, the reality of his warning settling like lead in her stomach.

He was coming to Forks High School? What did he mean that he was taking a big chance? Why would he even go through the trouble of coming all this way to speak to her? Well, if he was planning on becoming violent, he could also plan to meet a face full of pepper spray.

She placed the receiver on her desk and absently stared at the calendar hanging on her wall, her gaze eventually settling on the date for the next day.

February 14. Valentine's Day.

She almost laughed out loud at the sheer irony of it. The one day she had been dreading all month, multiplied ten-fold in negativity by this turn of events. Of course something like this would happen. The holiday of supposed romance and love…and someone was coming after her in a fury.

_How fitting,_ she thought dryly.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

_February 14._

Angela apathetically walked into her classroom and ignored the blabbering girls shoving their heart-shaped balloons and rose bouquets at each other in comparison of who had the most impressive Valentine's gift (or who had gotten the biggest sucker to spend the most on useless crap). She picked up pieces of conversations detailing plans for after school, such as dates, dinners, and every other nauseating romantic venture that many males saw fit to participate in only this one day each year. It was enough to make her sick.

The look on Bella's face mirrored her own as the two anti-Valentine's girls exchanged glances. They endured the last hour of class, and then breathed similar sighs when the final bell rang. Bella had to get home to start Charlie's dinner and Angela, wanting to get the confrontation with Paul over with, told her that she was staying after school. They bid each other good bye and went their separate ways.

In all honesty, Angela was currently having a bad case of anxiety. Although she wanted this over and done with, she was certainly not looking forward to it. And as if to add to the austerity of her day, she passed by Ben in the hall on her way outside. He glanced at her and then quickly averted his sight as he lowered his head and accelerated his pace. She exhaled tiredly once he was gone, wondering if her life would remain in this bleak state for much longer.

How had things turned out this way? Ben had broken up with her; she'd dealt with it. Bella had needed her; she'd been there. Paul had practically ordered her to meet with him at her school; here she was. She strove to be the best possible human being she could be, and she had believed that she was doing well in obtaining that goal. So…why?

Stepping outside in the crisp cool air, she watched the other students heading for their cars or their rides, toting small and large objects that mostly consisted of the colors red and pink.

_Well…might as well go look for him._

She did not have to look far.

"Do you know Angela Webber? Can you tell me where she is?" a familiar gruff voice asked from somewhere behind her.

She whirled around and caught sight of the shirtless back of a tall dark-skinned boy towering over the quivering form of Eric Yorkie. They were next to the side of the cafeteria, where few people passed through during this time of day…which essentially meant fewer witnesses.

The look of terror on Eric's face transformed into relief when he saw her, and he pointed a shaking finger in her direction.

"Th-There! That's Angela!" he all but shrieked. And not waiting another second, he hastily scurried away once his prospective attacker's attention left him.

Slowly, the giant form of the Quileute turned around. She found that her heart was thundering in her chest as she prepared herself for the coming storm.

_And why in the world is he half naked?_ she wondered vaguely, taking in the toned muscles of his shoulders and arms. _It's about thirty degrees out here._

At last, he fully faced her. About twenty yards apart, their eyes locked for the first time. She grudgingly admitted to herself that he was rather attractive, sporting well-defined features and eyes as dark as night. Even though they were burning with an angry fire, they were still the most beautiful eyes she'd ever seen. It was a shame that he was a foul-tempered, bad-mouthed, rude, stubborn brute who could best be described as her polar opposite.

Sighing, she walked forward until she stood not five feet away from him. Her gaze was on the snowy ground as she said solemnly, "I'm Angela."

A full ten seconds passed. No response.

Somewhat perplexed, she summoned up the courage to meet his eyes once again. What she saw only served to increase her confusion.

His expression, which had initially been one of hostility and malice when he'd first spotted her, had changed into one that appeared to be shock. His eyes were as wide as saucers, and his lips parted to form an "O" of surprise. He was a few inches taller than her, and he remained frozen in his stance as he continued to stare down at her face in awe.

"Are you all right?" she asked in utter bemusement. _What on earth? Should I call someone? What just happened?_

Thankfully, though, he was able to convince her that he was coherent. "I…I…" Or somewhat coherent.

She simply stared back at him, mystified. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he managed to choke out, his voice issuing a strange pitch that did not convince her. "It's just…uh…I didn't expect…"

"Paul," she said sharply. She was beginning to grow nervous from his odd behavior. "Please try to make sense. You send me rude responses, insult me on the phone, call me out here to confront me, and then proceed to act this way. Whatever game you're playing, I want it to stop."

Honestly…here she was, expecting to witness a temperamental tirade consisting of loud yelling and possibly a bit of physical violence, yet he looked more like a deer caught in headlights than a sadistic barbarian. She even had her pepper spray ready to whip out from the open pocket of her backpack.

That was what snapped him out of his trance. But although he was now consciously focused, there was still no trace of aggression on his face.

"Do you…do you want to go get something to eat?" he asked uncertainly out of the blue, his tone sounding astonishingly kind and gentle.

The question left her completely baffled. "_What?_"

"I mean…you know, it's Valentine's Day after all…and it looks like neither of us have valentines, so–"

"_What?_" she said again, seriously believing his mental health was plummeting downward. "_What are you talking about?_ In case you have forgotten, you and I happen to be very strong antagonists toward each other, and we have a short history of intense dislike and opposition–"

He placed a finger on her lips to shush her. The foreign contact paralyzed her as her heart flipped at his searing touch.

_What's happening to me?_ she thought as she felt herself drowning in the intensity of his gaze. Like a moth to a flame…

He began to run the backs of his fingers along her chin, still looking at her in wonder. "I promise I'll explain everything. But first…can I hold you?"

Her jaw dropped as she attempted to detect the authenticity of the request. "N…NO!" she refused vehemently, jumping away from him. "Are you _insane_–?"

"Look, Angela. I know for the past week or so we've been at odds. And I really did come here with the intention of telling you off for butting into something that originally had nothing to do with you. But actually meeting you, _seeing_ you…well, it _changes_ things," he told her earnestly, some unspoken element hovering in the background.

She was now backing away from him, inwardly going over each possible escape route. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…" In three giant steps he was right in front of her, and he encircled her wrists to keep her from running away. "…Now that I've met you…" He ignored her attempts to break out of his hold as he backed her against the side of the science building and trapped her by pressing his body against hers. "…I can't, willingly or unwillingly, ever bear to leave your side."

She was breathless as the strangely strong heat of his body enveloped her front through her winter coat and spurned new emotions within her chest. Caution gave way to entrancement, and inhibition gave way to instinct. She was powerless, mind and body, against his will. What was going on? Was he really as crazy as she thought? Or was there a larger unknown force that had altered their state of affairs? She was confused above all, but she could not deny feeling some sort of invisible pull drawing her to him. If anything, she would definitely be taking him up on that explanation he'd promised.

"Come with me back to the Reservation," he murmured against her ear, sending unfamiliar thrills down her spine. "You'll learn the truth of the motives behind Jacob's supposed distancing from Bella. Believe me when I tell you that it wasn't his choice." Leaning back, his gaze returned to her face. "In fact, we have little choice over a lot of things."

"I don't understand," she said unsteadily, torn between her last desire to escape and wanting to know the truth.

"You will," he assured her, a peculiar softness now radiating from his aura.

She was so mesmerized by this point that she nearly protested when he backed off and released her wrists. Her heart continued to flutter in a rapid atypical pace as she stared at him wordlessly.

"Angela," he said in a final attempt of persuasion. He held out a large hand for her to take, signifying that the decision was ultimately hers. "I want you to meet the pack."

She did not know what he meant by "pack" or if he was sincere in his declarations. Still…why did she feel like this young man–whom she'd originally disliked, loathed, despised–was someone she could trust? And furthermore, why did she feel like she was unable to refuse him?

A flash of color caught the side of her eye. Glancing to her left, she saw a small red silhouette cutout of a paper Cupid, fluttering down to the ground from somewhere above. It landed with its arrow pointed straight at them, a symbol that perhaps Cupid had not neglected her as she thought he had.

_Little bastard,_ she thought rather uncharacteristically as she imagined the cutout laughing in good humor at her expense.

After one more moment of hesitation, she made up her mind and placed her hand in Paul's waiting palm.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

_A/N:_ Somewhat rushed and to the point. I will be the first to admit that this story lacks the characteristic detail I usually incorporate into my fanfiction, which is why I am labeling this as a drabble fic. I may write a chaptered fanfic featuring Angela and Paul in the future, but for the time being, let me know what you think. Thank you for reading.


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